


Look Like a Movie; Sound Like a Song

by dumblarrie



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Drunk Sex, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Louis Tomlinson is Harry Styles' Muse, M/M, Partying, Photographer Harry, Pining, not sure where this is going
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 02:32:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8692960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumblarrie/pseuds/dumblarrie
Summary: Harry is a photographer looking for his inspiration, he finds it in Louis.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm so excited I finally got around to writing this! I have a ton of ideas as to where this is going to go, so let me know what you think so far! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Title is from "When We Were Young" by Adele

The London air was cold today. Not that it wasn't cold every other day, it was December after all, it just felt different. Gloomy, almost. The perfect day to stay in bed, Harry thought to himself as he pulled his white down comforter over his head. He knew he had to work today and he despised that. Not that he hated his job, he just loved his bed. Harry loved being a photographer. He loved capturing life with one single click of his finger. He loved to photograph people, in particular. Something about how each wrinkle in their face told a story made him feel alive. Today, however, he would much rather stay in his warm bed in his warm house with a hot cup of tea and watch One Tree Hill reruns. It was nearly 10 o clock when his phone rang. He knew who it was before he even picked up.

"Where the hell are you?" Niall has been his best friend for nearly five years. Harry hired him two months ago to help him get organized for an upcoming event where his photography was being showcased. He needed to select 25 shots by Christmas so they could be ready for the New Years Eve showing. "If you're still in bed I'm going to drive myself over there and personally kick your arse", Niall boomed.

"So what if I am? The artist needs his beauty sleep" Harry teased.

Niall let out a little chuckle, "I'm on my way to pick you up. You better be ready or I swear to god..." Now it was Harry's turn to chuckle.

"Calm down, boy. I'll be ready". Harry hung up the phone and rolled out of bed with a sigh. He sluggishly made his way to the bathroom and, after assessing his hair situation, threw his long brown curls back into a bun. He threw on his usual black skinny jeans and an almost see through white t shirt, adding a fur lined leather jacket to protect himself from the cold. Just as he was grabbing for his camera, Niall pulled into his driveway. Harry opened the door, a shiver running down his spine from the sudden blast of cold air. He slung his Cannon EOS 6D over his shoulder and sped to Niall's car.

"How's old faithful today?" Niall asked referring to the large camera now placed in Harry's lap.

"Still shooting" Harry replied, laughing only to himself.

"You missed out on an absolute rager last night. Calvin lit himself on fire and had to jump it the pool with all his clothes on! It was crazy!"

Harry rolled his eyes "sounds like a blast, Ni".

"Nick was there as well" Harry felt Niall's elbow bumping his side and he looked over to see a stupid grin plastered across his face. He felt a hot wave of embarrassment wash over him. "Was he?" He answered trying his best to sound nonchalant but failing miserably. "He asked about you. Asked where you were." Niall sounded genuinely concerned and Harry just shrugged it off, as usual.

"Just because we happen to be the only two gay men you know does not mean we are perfect for each other, Niall. How would you feel if I tried to hook you up with every girl I ever... don't answer that". Niall let out what can only be described as a howl.

"Mate I would not complain if you tried to hook me up with your friends."

"Can we grab a coffee?" Harry replied trying desperately to change the subject. "I'm still half asleep." Harry sipped his iced soy latte a little too long to avoid talking to Niall the rest of the way. "I should have just stayed in bed" Harry grumbled to himself as they arrived downtown. It was slower than Harry had expected; only a few stray people doing their holiday shopping. After 6 hours of photographing strangers, Harry felt like he'd gotten what he needed - or at least what he could. On top of that they were losing light and it was freezing. The car ride home was filled with more conversations about parties.

"You really should come out this weekend, it's gonna be legendary." Harry offered back only a shrug, but with that small glimmer of hope Niall's face lit up like a Christmas tree. As they pulled up to Harry's flat Niall said, a devious tone to his voice "I'm not giving you a choice, actually. I'll be 'round at 10 on Friday to pick you up." Before Harry could protest, Niall had driven off.

"Fuck" Harry mumbled to himself. He fumbled a little with his keys, it had been 6 months since he had moved out of Nick's and gotten his own place but he still would occasionally use the key closest to his 'home' keychain out of habit. He made a mental note to switch his keys around and headed upstairs.

 

Plopping down at his desk he began to scroll through some of the photos he had taken that day. He came across a photograph that was particularly interesting and stopped to examine it a bit closer. It was a photo of the most handsome profile he had ever seen. A boy with tousled brown hair was in complete focus while the rest of the picture was just blurred colors of scarves or jackets from strangers rushing to get out of the cold. Almost as if he were the sun, strong, striking and almost blinding, and everything else was the solar system circling around him. Harry stared at the picture a little longer than he needed to and kept rifling through the rest of the shots. Out of the hundreds of pictures he had taken that day, only about 30 of them were useable and less than that were up to the very high standards Harry had set for himself. This showcase in December was Harrys first real shot to get his name out there. He wanted it to be perfect. He sat back to reminisce about how much he’s grown since he began taking photos. He had loved photography since he was just a boy. His mom, Anne, had gotten him one of those disposable cameras for his sixth birthday. Harry had never felt so excited to learn something new. His mom taught him how to take his very first picture. It was a very blurry, off centered photograph of the green swing set in his backyard. The flowers in the garden his sister Gemma and his mom had worked so hard on were just beginning to bloom and the dark wood of the swing matched the patch of dirt - undoubtedly from all the times harry dragged his feet when he swung - that sat directly below it. His mom still had that photo hanging in his childhood bedroom just next to the doorframe right above the light switch. That picture was ingrained in his memory like a tattoo. He felt such innocence when he looked at his early work and desperately hoped to capture that again.

 

Shaking himself out of haze he continued to scroll through the photos, stopping again at the mysterious profile of the boy. He studied his face as if it were a map. His cheeks like rolling hills and his lips like pink clouds, resembling cotton candy, supple and sweet. The thought of this boys lips made Harry’s mouth water and his lips ache. Harry brought a long milky finger up to his mouth and gently brushed over his lips, feeling some release from the friction. Thinking about the reality of the situation; knowing he would most likely never see this boy again in his life; caused his chest to tighten slightly. It was an odd sensation, grieving the loss of someone you’d never met. A growl in the pit of Harry’s stomach brought him back to reality.

 

“Shit” he said aloud, “I haven’t eaten today”. Harry looked at his clock in disbelief. It was already past 8. Harry dragged himself to his kitchen, rifling through every cabinet for something to eat. He settled on pasta and began to bring a pot of water to a boil. After he had eaten, he threw his dirty bowl into the sink. He was far too tired to do the washing up tonight. He slowly made his way to his bedroom, slipping off his clothes one by one until he was left only in his briefs. He flopped down face first on to his unmade bed with a sigh. The cool pillows feeling like icicles on his face stinging ever so slightly. Sheets and blankets an knotted mess, Harry wiggled around enough so his blankets were coving his long, slender body. Harry caught himself wishing for someone, anyone, to walk through his door and just keep him company. Living alone, harry thought, was supposed to be a time to find himself. It instead was just filled with him sulking and isolating himself as much as possible, or as he liked to call it “throwing himself into his work”. Even after 6 months, the wounds Nick left were still unhealed. Harry spent many sleepless nights imagining what he and Nick would be doing at that moment. Flashes of memories would slip into his subconscious and he would dream of a time when they were happy together. His mind particularly liked their one year anniversary, the smell of wet earth still present in his nostrils. Nick had taken him camping in Meopham at this cute little site that had wild chickens and multicolored loo doors. They spent three days just enjoying each others company and Harry could feel his eyes well up with tears. He didn’t miss Nick, not really. He just felt empty. He had felt empty long before their relationship had crashed and burned. It was this emptiness that caused so much strife, making it nearly impossible to love truly and completely. As harry drifted off, he mind slipped away to places like the campsite in Meopham, but this time, Nick wasn’t with him. He was replaced by a boy with tousled brown hair, rosy cheeks and the most kissable lips Harry had ever seen.


End file.
